


The hand that is dealt

by purple_cube



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 14:25:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3329537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_cube/pseuds/purple_cube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One unintentional glance leads to a fabricated love story between mentor and tribute - but in the end, there are no winners. Only survivors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The hand that is dealt

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a drabble request for sixela872 on Tumblr, for the prompt "Shag Me" (or, a smutty drabble).

 

 

The tension at the dinner table is palpable – and only breaks when Haymitch throws his napkin onto his plate and gets to his feet. Without uttering a word, he reaches for an empty glass, turns it over to place it on top of the liquor bottle, and stalks toward the door.

 

Even Effie doesn’t bother to complain about his lack of manners. They all know that their last roll of the dice hadn’t been enough; the 75th Hunger Games are still on, and they are still tributes.

 

“I think I’ll go to bed now,” Peeta announces a moment later, to no one in particular.

 

Katniss moves before he has even finished speaking, only turning back to the table as an afterthought. “Me too. Goodnight, Effie.”

 

Their escort looks up with a smile that is only half as bright as it ordinarily would be. “Goodnight. I’ll see you both bright and early tomorrow.”

 

Katniss trails after Peeta, increasing her speed as he approaches the door to his room. But when he gets there and stops, he doesn’t turn, instead raising his hand to rest against the frame as his upper body slumps.

 

“I’m too tired to talk about this now, Katniss.”

 

She doesn’t doubt that, the exhaustion in his voice tugging at her heart. But if she lets him go now, he’ll slip away from her forever. So instead, she simply says, “I’m not here to talk. I just want to know if you meant it.”

 

He turns his head a fraction, and she can see him regarding her from the corner of his eye. “Of course I meant it.”

 

She takes a step, followed by another, until she can feel the heat emanating from the back of his neck.

 

Reaching onto the tips of her toes, she leans forward to whisper into his ear. “Can I come in?”

 

“I thought you didn’t want to talk,” he quietly comments without moving.

 

“I don’t.”

 

*

 

_ Three hours earlier _

_The blare of the trumpet heralds the return of that age-old fear, the one that always barrels into the pit of her stomach through years spent watching the Games._

_Last year, of course, had been different. She had been waiting backstage, primped and preened to within an inch of her life thanks to her prep team. Cinna had set her nerves at ease before she went on stage – but it had been Peeta who her eyes had found in the crowd when Caesar Flickerman had the cheek to ask if there was anyone special waiting for her back home._

_It wasn’t until much later that she learned how that one glance had saved her life. Peeta – and Haymitch – had taken her inadvertently coy response (_ not at home, no _) and ran with it. After she had emerged from the arena, whole in body if not quite in mind, she witnessed their intricately spun tale of her victory. The endless interviews with Peeta and his fabricated stories of their time “getting to know each other” at the Training Center, Haymitch’s sly comments on their preparation techniques, Effie’s more innocent remarks on their chemistry._

_Peeta, naturally, saved the best for the very end. She had sat by Caesar’s side, stunned, as the story of his infatuation with her – starting when he heard her sing the Valley Song at just five years’ old – was interspersed with her final, bloody fight with Cato._

_Now, she’s back here a year later, watching Peeta go through his tribute interview with Caesar instead of Thom. She knows that it’s her fault that they’re here, that Snow is punishing her for trying to save Rue in the 74 th Games. Her efforts had been futile in the end, the mutts getting to her friend from District 11 before she could save her. But the open display of grief from Katniss – the tears and songs and floral tribute – had been enough to incite rebellion in Rue’s district as well as a few others. _

_So, this must be her punishment. A return to the arena. And because Peeta had been instrumental in her victory, she figures that this is his punishment too._

_He seems more composed than she expects, given the circumstance, as she gazes up at the big screen._

_“So, Peeta,” Caesar begins sympathetically. “Two years after your victory, we certainly did not expect to see you back here.”_

_He earns a rueful smile from his interviewee. “I didn’t expect it either, Caesar.”_

_“Tell us, how have the last two years been for you? You’ve not been in the Capitol as much as we would have liked.”_

_The crowd murmurs in agreement, and Peeta nods in understanding. “Well, the first year after my victory was obviously difficult, with the sudden death of my father. I had to, of course, put my family first and spend more time in 12 than I perhaps would have otherwise.”_

_His voice carries just the right tone of sincerity, apology and lingering grief to earn another murmur from the crowd, this time in sympathy._

_“And the second year?” Caeasar prompts._

_Peeta coughs awkwardly. “Well, the second year was a little different. I wasn’t just a victor, I was a mentor. And my tribute won her Games, which meant that I had to train her for a new life as a successful victor in the Capitol.”_

_“Surely that should mean that the two of you would have spent more time in the Capitol, not less?”_

_Katniss wishes that she could punch that smug, knowing smile from Caesar’s face. Peeta, however, takes an alternative approach, allowing mischief to enter his own grin. “Truth be told, I was enjoying spending time with her…and I guess that I didn’t want to share her with the Capitol. I wanted to keep her all to myself.”_

_She watches as the camera cuts to a view of her profile, staring at Peeta in stunned silence._

 

*

 

Once inside the room, she makes good on her promise – they don’t talk. She walks around his stiff frame to position herself between him and the bed. And then she reaches for him.

 

What seems like an eternity passes before he takes her hand and steps closer. They move in sync, however, when she leans in to kiss him. He meets her halfway, and given the tension that has lay heavy between them for the past year, it is a much more tentative kiss than she expects.

 

But then she opens her mouth to him, and there is only certainty and strength in the way his arms curl around to envelop her. Soon, all she can feel and hear and taste is him.

 

She doesn’t even know that they’ve moved until the backs of her thighs hit the bed. He hoists her up, and doesn’t resist when she wraps her legs around his waist and drags him down on top of her.

 

His kisses only stop when she reaches for the fastening of his pants. He pulls back, but before he can speak, she presses a finger to her own lips in a silent plea.

 

He closes his mouth, but doesn’t move return to her.

 

“I’m sure,” she whispers in response to his silent question.

 

It seems to take him a few seconds to believe her, but she knows that he does when he stops hovering and covers her body with his once more. And when she attempts once more to push his pants down to his knees, he lets her.

 

But he doesn’t let her do much more, instead taking control to unbutton her shirt and slide it from her shoulders. She finds herself in her underclothes before he does – but then he slides onto the mattress beside her and lifts his own shirt over his head and kicks his pants onto the floor.

 

And then it is just them, panting hard and staring at each other in the dim light.

 

She’s not naïve. She knows that while he hasn’t spent a lot of time in the Capitol since his victory, he has spent _some_ time here. And the awkward conversation that they had shared just days before the Quarter Quell was announced had shed light on what the victors did here. What they were _forced_ to do here.

 

What she would have been forced to do if Snow hadn’t decided that she should die in another arena instead.

 

“I haven’t done this before,” she admits.

 

“We don’t have to –“

 

“I want to,” she insists. “I just haven’t before, that’s all.”

 

“Okay.” He rolls closer, until their noses bump, and she smiles. “Can I touch you?”

 

She nods, and he glides a hand between them, pressing his fingertips between her thighs. When he catches her labia between his fingers and brushes her clitoris, she gasps loudly.

 

“Here?”

 

She can only nod again.

 

He pushes her onto her back, half covering her body with his before returning his attention to the part of her body that sends spikes of pleasure coursing to every extremity.

 

It isn’t long before those spikes morph into one long, intense pulse as she comes, her head tipped back against the headboard and a long, guttural groan escaping from her gaping mouth.

 

Only when she comes down from her high does she notice the way his fingers have moved deeper, swirling patterns amongst the moisture that has come from her body. When he dips a coated finger inside her, she groans again.

 

“Did they give you a shot?” he murmurs against her neck.

 

It takes her moment to understand. “Yes.”

 

“I’m clean; I had my test last week. But there are other forms of protection if you want me to use them.”

 

“No.” She knows what he means – she’s seen 12’s crude variation on condoms on sale in the Hob. “I just want you.”

 

He gives her what she wants, hovering for a moment pushing guiding himself into her. She ignores the sting of pain, but a gasp escapes her lips nonetheless. “It’ll get easier in a minute,” he tells her in a strained voice.

 

He’s right, because when he starts to pump in and out of her, the pain is rapidly replaced with pleasure. She can feel the ridges of his cock pushing against her inner walls, and even the contraction of his muscles as he drives forward and deeper inside her.

 

She thought she understood what it was to quench a hunger before – but this is an entirely new kind of satisfaction, and one that she doesn’t think she will ever get enough of.

 

When he climaxes sooner than she would like, with a moan followed by a whisper of her name, she swallows her disappointment.

 

But he doesn’t withdraw like she expects –and she almost laughs at herself, because nothing Peeta has said or done this evening has been expected. He reaches down between them, massaging her clit with determined circles to ensure that they both experience the heightened sensation of her climaxing around his cock.

 

*

 

_When the camera cuts back to the stage, Peeta is staring at the floor._

_“It’s such a shame, is it not, that we may not get to see how this wonderful love story plays out?” Caesar asks the audience._

_Peeta raises his head slightly. “I could share some it. I’m sure Katniss wouldn’t mind.”_

_She listens, carefully keeping her expression neutral, as he weaves an elaborate tale of love blossoming amidst their new lives in District 12’s Victors’ Village – and ends with a description of the toasting ceremony that signifies marriage according to their local traditions._

_By the time he finishes, Peeta has the audience in tears._

_He has yet another surprise, however – for them and for her._

 

_“Cinna explained that our customs back in 12 weren’t quite the same as here in the Capitol. And I want only the best for my wife, so…”_

_His voice trails away as he reaches into his breast pocket and holds a small object up for the camera to zoom in on. She joins the audience in scrutinizing the view from the big screen – and sees that it’s a simple, but thick, gold ring._

_The audience “awws” and “aahs” yet again._

_“It’s engraved with the word ‘always’ on the inside. Can I go and give it to her?” he asks with an excitement that is palpable._

_The cheers are deafening as he makes his way up the stairs where she stands with the rest of the victors – all of them tributes once more. Before she can react, Peeta drops down to one knee and reaches for her left hand. After delivering a small, almost imperceptible nod, she lets him glide the ring onto her third finger, to the obvious delight of the audience._

_She wants nothing more than for this to be over, for the limelight to be on somebody else, but Caesar has other ideas and insists that the two of them return to the stage for one final interview – together._

_She lets the ridiculous Capitolite fawn over her ring and holds her hand up for the camera, plastering an ecstatic smile on her face._

_“Peeta,”their interviewer says with another gushing smile, “thank you so much for sharing this with us. The two of you have earned a special place in our hearts, and we’re so happy to have been a part of this wonderful moment. You must surely now be able to go into that arena with the knowledge that you have lived your lives to the fullest.”_

_No one expects Peeta’s face to fall – her, least of all. And no one expects his eyes to fill with unshed tears._

_“Well, Caesar,” he begins shakily.  “We wouldn’t have any regrets at all, if it weren’t…”_

_Katniss squeezes his hand and gives him a smile of encouragement – despite being as ignorant of his intentions as everyone else in the room._

_The bait is taken. “If it weren’t for what?” Caesar all but pleads._

_Peeta’s gazes at her, sadly yet lovingly, as he speaks – and really, it is this that distracts her enough to avoid revealing her shock at his next words._

_“If it weren’t for the baby.”_

*

 

She wakes in the night to find him pressed against her back, his arm wrapped tightly around her midriff. He shifts in an unconscious response to her movement, and she gasps at the feel of his erection against the top of her thigh.

 

Carefully, she maneuvers further onto her side and circles her pelvis experimentally. His cock is brushing her ass now, and she finds herself sliding her own hand between her thighs.

 

She doesn’t bother to hide her light moans as her fingertips find the bundle of nerves that he had dedicated so much attention to earlier.

 

It’s only when his erection slides between her ass cheeks that she realizes that he must have shifted again. And it’s only when she feels his hand reach between them to push his cock into the gap between her thighs, the tip brushing her fingers at her clit, that it occurs to her that he must be awake. 

 

“Katniss?”

 

He sounds sleepy, yet his movements are anything but.

 

“Yes,” she responds – to answer his question, to grant consent, to plead for more.

 

He seems to understand the multiple meanings of that one, simple word, and groans as he tugs the knee that rests on top backward and over his own legs, opening her to him.

 

When he pushes into her this time, there is none of the discomfort from before.

 

There is only pleasure.

 

*

 

In the morning, she wakes to find him watching her.

 

She can hear his nervousness when he finally speaks. “Hi.”

 

“Hi.”

 

He moves a hand to play with the ends of her hair, curling the strands into an obscure pattern on the pillow between them.

 

“I meant it all,” he tells her eventually. “No one’s ever made an impression like you have. Maybe under different circumstances, maybe without the Games, it could have all been real. But I meant it – I _wanted_ it.”

 

She wants to tell him something – anything – in return. _Thank you for helping me in the arena. Thank you for protecting me from the Capitol after I won._

_No one’s ever made an impression like you, either._

_Maybe without the Games, I could want all of that, too. With you._

 

Instead, she simply says, “I’ll see you in the arena.”

 

It takes all of her strength not to turn around as she gets dressed, before walking away.

 

 


End file.
